


The Paths We Chose

by Skimming_Through18



Series: You Gotta Let Go, I'm Gonna Catch You [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Action, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Arguing, Avengers Break Up, Avengers Tower, BAMF Tony Stark, Captivity, Communication, Consequences, Daddy Issues, Depression, Don't Mess With Tony Stark's Kid, Emotions, Father-Son Relationship, Field Trip, Fluff, Foster Care, Friendship/Love, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Happy Ending, Homeless Peter Parker, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Humor, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hydra (Marvel), Identity Issues, Insecure Peter Parker, Insecure Tony Stark, Irondad, James "Rhodey" Rhodes is a Good Bro, Kid Peter Parker, Loneliness, Mentor Tony Stark, Ned Leeds is a Good Bro, No Avengers: Endgame, No Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Oscorp - Freeform, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Becomes Spider-Man, Peter Parker Has Nightmares, Peter Parker Makes Friends, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Wants To Help, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker in Trouble, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker-centric, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Spider Bite Peter Parker, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Protective Tony Stark, Protectiveness, Science Bros, Shy Peter Parker, Sleep Deprivation, Stark internship, Sweet Peter Parker, Teen Peter Parker, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, Tony Stark saves the day, Tony Stark-centric, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Violence, Vulture - Freeform, Whump, as you can clearly see, i like tags, mcu - Freeform, peter parker is a good kid, spiderson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 13:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18874231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skimming_Through18/pseuds/Skimming_Through18
Summary: Tony Stark always knew that one day the ‘Man inside the Can’ would break. He never expected it to come so soon, though. After the events of Civil War, he can’t find the will to move on, he can’t rebuild what keeps being torn apart in his life. With nothing left to lose, he loses himself. The last thing he expected was for some kid to come bursting through his self-made walls and turn his life around for better or worse.Peter Parker has learned to withstand a lot in his young life. After the deaths of his uncle and aunt, he doesn’t expect much of his new foster home. He just wants his best friend, and his normal school life. He’s accepted that ‘family’ is no longer applicable to his life, but when he risks losing all that he has left, will he accept the help of someone he never imagined would care about him? Will he get a second shot at family?orRehash of Spiderman: Homecoming





	1. The Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This is a rehash/revise of how Peter Parker and Tony Stark come to know each other. All the events in the MCU are parallel to this story up until Civil War (this story will branch off after Civil War). WILL NEVER CONTAIN ENDGAME SPOILERS  
> Some KEY POINTS you should know before you read:  
> 1\. The story begins AFTER Civil War  
> 2\. In this story, Peter was NOT involved in the events of Civil War (but don’t worry! He is involved in this story. He’s kind of the main character so…yah.)  
> 3\. Bruce Banner will show up earlier than in the events of Infinity War, so no Thanos yet, if ever (just roll with it)  
> 4\. Peter Parker is a year younger than he is in the Marvel films (14 years-old)

_Three Weeks after Civil War_

 

The TV crackled loudly from the other side of the room, causing Tony to stir from his drunken sleep.

“The government has assured along with the UN that the Rogue Avengers are indeed out of the country,” a reporter’s voice said, the volume just tuned high enough to rouse Tony. “Secretary Ross and the UN board have been working to find the Rogues and bring them to justice. They’ve asked that the public be made aware of this fact, and to be careful.”

Tony blinked blearily. He was sprawled out on the hard ground behind the bar, a bottle of amber liquid clutched in one hand, the other pressed awkwardly to the floor against his body’s weight. Groaning, he moved his arm free from beneath him. His wrist throbbed as circulation once more worked its way into his fingers.

“Thank you, Kaitlyn,” a male voice replied. “I’m sure the UN is doing everything in their power to find the Rogues, but I think the public has a completely different view on the matter. Many people are arguing that the crimes of Steve Rogers and the others are false claims and are calling for the UN to pardon them. Protesters have grouped in places all across the globe to fight for the Rogues release. People have been grouping on the streets of DC, outside Avenger’s facilities, and in many other public places to raise awareness.”

Tony slowly lifted himself from the floor of the Tower, wincing from the intense headache that nearly made him collapse again, and leaned himself on the counter of the bar. He stared across the room at the TV as the camera switched from the anchorman to another reporter standing outside, voices of a large crowd surrounding him.

“We’re turning to Gabe McCoy to give us feedback on the protesting in Washington.”

“Thanks, Dustin,” the reporter said. “I’m standing outside the White House in DC right now, and folks from all backgrounds have come to protest for Captain America’s cause. We have old and young here, all are standing at the steps in large groups.”

Gabe moved more to the side, and the camera followed. In the background, hundreds of people were gathered in one big mass holding up signs and calling out angrily. Tony opened his mouth to tell FRIDAY to shut off the TV, but all that came out were dry rasps. He groaned at the pounding in his head and laid his face against the cool counter.

“Hi there,” Gabe continued, the camera sliding to the side to reveal a young girl that couldn’t have been over nine. “What’s your name?”

“Courtney.”

“Well, Courtney, what does your sign say?”

The girl lifted a cardboard poster to the camera. Plastered in bold, red and blue letters, it read: BRING BACK EARTH’S HEROES.

Gabe nodded. “I like it. Are you here protesting with someone, Courtney?”

“My mom.” Courtney gestured to a woman standing directly behind her.

“Hi, Courtney’s mom,” Gabe greeted with a flashy smile. Lifting his microphone to the older woman. “How long have you and your daughter been here?”

“Since this morning. We haven’t even stopped for breaks. We were here yesterday, too.”

Tony allowed his muddled brain to recognize it must be sometime near late afternoon in DC, so that meant it was late afternoon here. Thankful for the secure blinds that covered the windows from the impending day, Tony lurched forward to turn off the TV manually and return to his booze, but Gabe’s next words caused him to pause halfway.

The reporter turned his microphone back to the young girl and asked. “So why are you here, Courtney?”

Courtney gazed at the camera this time, her gaze so intense it seemed to burn all the way through the television and sear Tony. “The government took away the Superheroes,” she stated. “We want them to come back.”

Tony stared at the TV, the loathing inside of him growing.

“If the Avengers were watching right now, Courtney, what would you say?”

Before Courtney could answer, Tony’s voice snapped at the ceiling, working over the rasps. “FRIDAY, shut it off.”

The screen blacked out immediately. Running a hand down his face, Tony staggered to a window in the Tower.

“Open the blinds,” he ordered. Tony hissed at the light that suddenly burst into the shady room, head exploding beneath its harshness. He pressed his hands against his sensitive eyes and took measured breaths. Hesitantly, Tony opened his eyes once more. The blinding pain wasn’t as severe this time and he was actually able to look out through squinted eyes. New York City laid before him, basked in long, hazy shadows. The narrow streets slotted between each building were filled with vehicles racing along like ants beneath him. Lights glowed from hundreds of windows on every building. It was like a hive. Always busy.

When the sun lowered and the city darkened, it remained busy. The lights stayed on, the cars continued their individual courses, and Tony stood there, watching it all. _Not everybody runs on batteries, Tony_ , Pepper’s voice resounded inside his head.

Tony unconsciously reached up to rub his chest where the arch reactor once powered him. It had helped him stay alive for so long, kept the shrapnel from entering his heart. But then he had evolved, he’d moved on. Upgraded his batteries. For a time, he wasn’t just a powered, titanium alloy suit. He had been something more. The name Tony Stark had been more.

As the night darkened, the ‘A’ that rested just above him glowed brighter. Imprinted on the tower, it shone out above New York. He imagined people looking up at it as they meandered around during their errands. It was meant to give the people a beacon of hope, a symbol of security. He wondered what they thought when they saw it now. The bitterness inside of him finally broke his frozen stance, and he turned his back on the vast city, lurching to the couch across the room.

The floor was completely empty. Of course it was. Rhodey was at a meeting with the US Military. Vision was soul searching somewhere in the streets of Manhattan as he did every night. Sometimes the android would stay away for weeks at a time. Pepper was in California. Happy, probably with her. To top it all, FRIDAY had remained unusually mute throughout the entire week. He wasn’t sure if his sassy AI was angry with his drunken state, or inclined to give him some much needed privacy.

Because Tony needed it. He wanted to be alone.

He groaned as the elevator dinged and slid open across the room. Then again, when did he ever get what he wanted?

The occupant walked onto the floor soundlessly, and Tony didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“You still here?” a voice asked from behind him. Tony hummed.

“My tow’r so…yah,” Tony slurred out.

There was a sigh as the person walked around the couch, and Tony was forced to look up, because if he kept his gaze on the floor, he would see the contraptions on his best friend’s legs. Rhodey’s face looked tired, but his body language suggested otherwise. The colonel stood straight, feet apart like he always did, arms folded in front of him in a confident gesture.

“How many bottles?” he questioned.

Tony tried to shrug off the evident disappointment shown behind his friend’s weary eyes. “Mm, not many. I ran out before I could get invested.”

Rhodey sighed and glanced at the disordered bar in the corner of the penthouse. Empty bottles scattered across the counter from weeks of drinking. He looked back at Tony and scrutinized his filthy clothes and messy hair. Tony tried not to fidget under his intense stare. This was why he wanted to be alone.

“Tony, this has got to stop,” Rhodey finally said. “You need to move on. You’ve been holed up in this Tower for weeks. People are beginning to wonder if your still around.”

“Move on,” Tony repeated, gazing at nothing as he turned the words over in his mind.

“The UN has been demanding you call a press conference so people know Iron Man is still with us.”

“You mean they want me to publicly denounce the others.”

Rhodey shook his head. “No, Tony, that’s not—”

“I don’t want to,” Tony waved off, not caring that he sounded like a petulant child. “I’m not in the mood for the press. Tell Ross he can get his own conference. He doesn’t want me to represent them. I never listen.”

Rhodey leaned over his friend, an unyielding look on his face. “You need to listen now, alright? This…” he gestured to all of Tony, “is getting out of control. It’s unhealthy.”

“Is it?” Tony asked drily.

“Come on, Tony. I’ve seen you like this in the past, and usually I’d leave you alone because that’s how you operate.” Tony winced inwardly. It was how he operated, and it kind of sucked. “But it never helped before because every time you’d only stop until you nearly killed yourself. I won’t let that happen this time. There’s a reason you’re doing this, and you won’t tell me what it is.”

Tony stiffened and turned away from his friend. There was a reason. In his mind’s eye, he could see his mother’s terrified eyes, and could hear her pained groans. He could see the shield coming down on his chest.

“Tony, please,” Rhodey pleaded. “Don’t push us away on this. We can help.”

Tony looked out the window of the Tower once more, taking in the lit-up city. We? There was no ‘we’. Three weeks. Three weeks since Steve and the others had left. He’d heard of them breaking out of the Raft some time ago, and honestly, he couldn’t have been happier about it. He even threw out a few false trails for Ross to follow so the others could cover their tracks. But now? Now he couldn’t feel any satisfaction. Who could feel satisfaction in an empty Tower that once held Earth’s mightiest heroes?

“You wanna help?” Tony slurred out. “Good. Because I need a ride to the Compound. ‘M selling the tower.”

“Tones,” Rhodey said, the warning in his eyes evident.

“Yep. Gotta sell it. Honestly just a waste of space. Waste of time. Wastes all of my money, too. Gonna be broke before long.” He laughed manically at his last words.

“Tony, you can’t just sell the Tower.”

“Avengers are officially moving upstate,” Tony continued. “It’s nicer up there anyways. Did you know it has a lap pool, Rhodey-bear?”

“We can talk about this when your sober.”

“What’s there to talk about? I own the tower, I’m selling the tower. I’ll have Pepper work out the details.” Tony furrowed his brow. “Actually, not Pepper, she’ll just yell…” Tony snapped his fingers, face clearing slightly.

“Happy!” he murmured excitedly, searching his pockets for his phone. “Happy’s my man. I’ll just text him right now.”

“Tony, you’re not listening!” Rhodey hissed gripping his friend’s shoulder and yanking him around to face him. “You need to get over this. It’s tearing you apart.”

“And this is me getting over it,” Tony replied. “I’m moving on, aren’t I? Yep. I am. Now if you’ll excuse me…” Tony stood, swaying slightly as he made his way to his lab. “I’m gonna text Happy and pack up the lab.”

“Tony! You can’t just—” Whatever Rhodey had been prepared to say was cut off by the alert sounding from his phone. He pulled the device from his front pocket and examined the message, face unreadable. Suddenly his eyes widened in utter shock, mouth agape. The phone sounded off three more alerts as he gawked at whatever the message read.

“What?” Tony questioned as his friend continued to stare at the phone in horror.

“I got to go,” was Rhodey’s only reply, already heading to the elevator.

“What is it?”

Rhodey shot him a frustrated look that looked more distressed than anything, the surprise still palpable on his face. “I’ll let you know later. Stay away from the liquor. And don’t make any decisions about the Tower until you let Pepper know.”

“Hm,” Tony replied noncommittally.

“I’ll be back, then we’ll talk.”

“Whatever you say, mama bear.”

Tony watched as the elevator doors closed, and once again he was alone. Alone with his self-deprecating thoughts. He was used to it by now. Feeling frustrated at Rhodey’s aloofness, he turned and made his way to his lab.

As he approached the sensory glass doors that led to his workshop, though, a tight, constricting sensation entered his chest and he immediately switched his course, headed down the hallway to his room instead. It had been weeks since he’d entered his lab. Weeks since he’d even glanced at his iron man suits, let alone put one on, and he wondered if he’d ever have the courage to do so again. Every time he looked at the suit, he was reminded of Roger’s shield slamming down on his arch reactor in the cold bunker of Siberia. He remembered seeing his friend’s solemn determination as he’d beaten Tony to the ground, the Vibranium disc reigning down on him relentlessly. He’d half expected Steve to kill him. That’s how far Captain made it seem he’d be willing to go.

 _‘If I see a situation pointed south, I can’t ignore it_.’

Back then Steve had been talking about the Accords. Those blasted Accords.

When the United Nations presented the Accords to the world, Tony had been so eager to jump on Ross’s bandwagon. His life was in one word a mess, and the precautions and rules the documents offered felt like a firm leash on his overflowing recklessness. It kept him within a cautionary line of safety—for himself and for the world. He’d seen the Accords as a hope to grasp onto, every other aspect in his life being so unsteady.

His struggling relationship with Pepper, his sense of belonging to the Avengers, and basically every decision he’d made up to that point filled him with paranoia and an unquenchable thirst to redeem himself. Much like the BARF program, the Accords had given him an anchor that kept his wandering morals in place. It was meant to bring the world together, enhanced and nonenhanced alike. Superhero and citizen. Soldier and civilian.

Instead it had torn the whole darn thing to pieces, and Tony could only watch as the bonds that kept the world, _his_ world, safe crash and burn before his eyes. The Avengers had split up because of it, had driven a wedge into his team that led to their disbanding. He hadn’t expected the Accords to be the result of so much displeasure, to ruin any attempt he’d made at a better, safer future for the world. Instead it had broken it, leaving it open and vulnerable.

That was why he had needed to fix it, to glue their team back together piece by piece if he had to. The name Tony Stark was associated to the greatest mechanic of their generation. If he couldn’t fix what he’d unintentionally broken, then no one could. As much as he vouched for the Accords, if his team wouldn’t have it, then he would have to find some way to make it better, even if meant begging Cap and his little band to return. Because as much as their rash decisions had angered him ( _I mean, what the heck guys? We’re supposed to be a team_!), he knew the world needed the Avengers. They didn’t need the Accords or Iron Man, they needed their team and their leader.

So Tony managed to follow Natasha’s advice and swallow his ego for one second. He desperately searched for a way to improve their situation after the disastrous airport battle in Germany. It took seeing Rhodey laying on that hospital bed as his best friend’s paralysis was scanned before his eyes to realize he had to find a different approach. He had to make up for his rash decisions and hope Cap would do the same. Maybe Tony could find a way to bury this Barnes fellow under a rock until the whole Ross and Wakanda and Accords things blew over, and then they’d be able to talk about the pardoning and the HYDRA super-soldier brainwashing spiel.

He’d get his teammates the heck out of that Raft prison, and hopefully they’d find a way to come back together. Tony would never admit to anyone that the Avengers were the closest thing he had to family, but in the deepest crevices of his conscience, he knew that they were all he had, and he knew he couldn’t just allow his last poor-excuse-of-closure-he-called-family to slip away.

So that was why he had ended up in Siberia. Because the world needed them and some selfish part of him knew that he needed them too. He’d tried to play it cool with Cap, knowing that this abandoned HYDRA bunker held answers for his one-armed friend, but he itched to get out of the creepy place and convince Steve to help him plan out a course of action that would fix all of this and get the others out of the Raft.

Then Zemo.

Then the footage.

As Tony watched the life slip from his mother’s eyes, everything came crashing down. He’d taken so many hard blows in his life, but this one felt more like a fatal wound, crushing his reactor-less chest like it was made of plastic. He always knew one day that the ‘man inside the can’ would finally break, but he hadn’t expected it to come so soon. He was a Stark after all, and Stark men were made of iron. They kept fighting long after they’d fallen. So when the blinding and unreasonable rage overcame him, he felt for one moment he’d still be able to keep his sanity in check.

But Rogers had _known_.

Known all along what had happened and hadn’t told him. That was that. The final blow cut off his sense of reason and he attacked. Attacked Barnes, attacked Rogers, but most of all attacked the world, because suddenly, he didn’t feel like he needed it anymore. He fought as if there was nothing left in him but the manic urge for revenge. And in all truth there wasn’t. Not for him.

He couldn’t remember the fight after the rage subsided, and though outwardly he cursed Rogers and his friend, in his heart of hearts, he was secretly glad Cap’s shield had smashed down on his arch reactor. He’d been going for the kill, and once he was lying on the cold ground of the bunker in Siberia, abandoned, he was secretly grateful he’d been stopped. Because Tony wasn’t a killer. At least he tried not to be.

He’d laid there for hours, immobile and useless, as the gray sky darkened into night, and the only sounds to comfort him were the howling wind brushing against his face and the heavy armor. He hadn’t bothered to try and get up, it would have been pointless anyway, and some miserable part of him was glad he couldn’t. Glad he couldn’t move, glad he couldn’t do anything. Because every time he did something, what came back was a hot-pipin’ mess, and he was sick of it.

When the UN authorities had come—T’Challa had apparently tipped them off; how the King of Wakanda even knew Tony was there was a mystery he didn’t care to solve—he had allowed the officials to drag him to the Rescue Carrier without complaints. The whole flight back to New York, doctors had tried to pry open the suit to tend to his injuries, but Tony had just turned to face the side of the plane, not bothering to tell them it was a fruitless effort. Once back at the Compound, Rhodey had pulled himself from his hospital bed and came to his best friend on a wheelchair.

The look on Rhodey’s face when Tony cared to notice his friend said it all.

The Iron Patriot had extricated him from the useless suit with the assistance of FRIDAY. Once the metal fell from his body, Tony Stark was all that was left. Iron Man was gone.

Rhodey had tried to talk to him about what had happened, but Tony pretended not to hear. Government officials had approached and demanded a debrief, but Stark was long gone. At some point, Tony was sure Ross had even made an appearance, and the old goon had threatened him like there was no tomorrow, but Tony found the intimidations empty. After everyone had given up on pulling even one word out of him, they’d left the Compound. It was empty. The whole stupid building was empty, and this was made for Avengers, not Tony Stark. Rhodey had helped his friend to his room, making sure Tony at least found his bed. He hesitated for a few minutes as he had watched his friend, seeing the pain and loathing buried underneath all that emptiness, but he eventually turned and wheeled out of the room, hoping that somehow with time Tony would heal. He was a Stark after all. And Starks tended to be self-healing.

As Tony had waited in the dark that night, he’d tried to address the wound deep inside him, but he found it too painful to think about. So instead he waited. And waited some more. For what, he didn’t know. He was tired of things giving him hope and then letting him down, tired of trying to save the world when all that was left in it wasn’t even worth saving for Tony. He knew he’d be back to his flippant self soon, but inside he’d never be the same. He would eventually go back to working in the lab for hours on end, but he already knew that no amount of suits he could build would bring him pleasure. He would even step back into the suit someday. He’d even take up Iron Man again, but this time he wouldn’t find any satisfaction in the missions, because he already lost the purpose in Siberia.

Tony broke from his musings and grabbed a half-empty bottle that rested on his dresser by his bed. He gave the walls around him a fierce glare as he drank, hoping to drive the thoughts from his head before he slept. He would get nightmares of his parents’ deaths that night, he knew. So he didn’t allow himself to lie down and rest.

It was true, Stark men were made of iron, but even iron wore out its use over time.

 

* * *

 

Rhodey had never flown so fast. As the War Machine suit approached the Compound, thoughts were scrambling in his head from the messages he received only ten minutes ago. He’d thought about mentioning it to Tony, but the man was already way off in the deep end, and he didn’t want to raise any false alarms. This could be nothing. This _had_ to be nothing. When the Compound let out an alert that off-world substances had breached the security, Rhodey had been hit by just how unprepared they were for this. If this was some sort of alien invasion, Earth might not stand a chance. The US military and airforce were still negotiating with Wakanda and the UN, and the Avengers were scattered across the globe. SHIELD might be able to put together a small task force, but would it even make a difference? What were they even dealing with here?

“Connect with FRIDAY,” Rhodey commanded the suit’s intercom. “Get me readings.”

After a few moments, the Irish-accented AI connected to his phone and began to describe the situation without prompting.

“Extraterrestrial energy entered the Compound’s facility at approximately 11:43 pm,” she explained. “Said energy entered the Compound in the Northwest area. The security cameras were blown out from a shock wave that followed.”

“Is the Compound manned?”

“Security is positioned around the perimeter. They have kept their distance from the energy source. No actions have been made as of yet.”

“Keep it that way,” Rhodey said. “Do _not_ let anyone engage. We don’t know what this is or if it's hostile. How’d it even get in?”

“It appears that the breach was a blast of alien energy source that came from above the Compound.”

“So your saying it came directly from space,” Rhodey said drily. Great. They were dealing with a threat from the universe. He blasted his repulsors harder along the Hudson River, the Compound coming into view in the distance.

“Colonel Rhodes,” FRIDAY said. “May I remind you that you are not yet combat ready. Any excessive activity could result in damage to your recovery.”

“Noted, FRIDAY,” Rhodey replied. “But I might not have a choice. Has the UN been warned?”

“Yes. The Board is asking that you relay information to them on the threat. They are contacting countries as we speak. You are permitted to engage if necessary.”

“Good.” Rhodey knew that whether they had given permission or not, he’d do what he needed to do. It wasn’t an issue that had come up with Ross and the others yet, but it was only a matter of time before the colonel would have to disobey orders when the situation demanded, and he had a feeling the Council wouldn’t be very understanding when that time came.

Rhodey slowed as he approached the Compound, eyes scanning the Northwest quadrant thoroughly for the threat. He didn’t know what to expect. Aliens? A message? A freaking space ship? ‘Foreign energy’ wasn’t a lot to go on, but as he observed the area, he could only see the empty lawn. Security guards were holding positions on the walls and buildings of the Compound, guns trained on the grassy area, but there wasn’t a hostile in sight. Rhodey flew around the edge of the property, not wanting to become a target to the extraterrestrial or his own men, and landed on top of the roof. The suit clomped up to one of the guards.

“Lieutenant,” Rhodey greeted, the heads-up display x-raying the area. “What is it?”

The guard didn’t even look at him as he spoke. “There hasn’t been any movement since the breach.”

“What kind of breach are we talking about?”

“It-it was like some sort of burst of bright light,” the man replied shakily. “Like a beam that shot across the sky. One moment it was slicing through the air above us, the next it landed here. It sort of shook the ground, and then the light-beam just…disappeared. It’s been silent ever since.”

Rhodey pursed his lips tightly. “No one’s swept the area yet?”

“No sir.”

“Heat signature detected,” FRIDAY said.

Rhodey switched his visor to thermal vision.

“Where?”

“On your right.”

The AI didn’t give any other information, she had actually been unusually brief with everyone since Tony came back from Siberia. Rhodey wondered if it had to do with her connection on both the Tower and Compound, and if Tony’s creation was having an overload of information to deal with. In any case, it bothered Rhodey, and he made a mental note to bring it up with the billionaire later, if the man would ever stop drinking, that is.

Nonetheless, Rhodey spotted the heat signature easily once he looked over. The thermal waves were clearly noticeable in his heads-up display. Unfortunately, it was located just behind some shrubbery that adorned the lawn, covering the intruder from view.

Rhodey studied the figure for a while, but it didn’t move an inch. He hesitated for a moment, then came to a swift decision, activating the suit’s combat mode.

“I’m going to attempt an approach,” he said to the lieutenant. “Be ready and wait for my command.”

The border guard nodded and relayed the message to the others through his transmitter. Rhodey activated his thrusters and flew over the yard. He landed a few yards from the plants, eyes locked on the extraterrestrial.

As Rhodey approached, he engaged the shoulder missiles to be safe, but kept the gauntlets on standby. Whatever waited behind the shrubbery wasn’t moving. Yet. He stepped closer, and could finally make out a figure in the dark

It was then that Rhodey noticed that the heat signature was located exactly on top of the Bifrost imprint on the lawn. Thor had left it two years ago when he’d returned to Asgard. This had been years ago, immediately after the battle in Sokovia, but the stubborn burns hadn’t grown over since.

So was this Asgardians they were dealing with?

“Thor?” Rhodey guessed hesitantly, almost disbelievingly. He hadn’t seen the god for almost two years, and now he just showed up out of the blue? There was a small groan and the figure crumpled on the ground rolled over, exposing his bare chest and tattered pants.

Rhodey choked.

“Bruce?!”

And…wow.

Rhodey stood there for a long moment, his brain refusing to wrap around the fact that Dr. Banner was lying in a heap in front of him, moaning and alive after being MIA for years. He retracted his helmet in order to see this phenomenon with his own eyes.

“Hey…Rhodes,” Bruce ground out. He sounded winded and completely disoriented.

“Bruce…what the heck man? Where’ve you been?”

Bruce just let out another groan, and Rhodey finally snapped out of his stupor. Whatever crazy stuff was going on could wait. At least for now.

“Stand down everyone. FRIDAY, alert the medic team.”

“On it,” she said and disconnected with Rhodes' suit.

Rhodey bent down and hesitantly put a hand on Banner’s shoulder.

“You alright, man?”

“Yah…just a little dizzy.”

Rhodey nodded, eyes still wide as if he were staring at a ghost.

“Right, let’s…let’s get you to Medbay.”

Rhodey helped him up and guided him towards the Compound, ignoring the incredulous looks of the perimeter guards as he drug Dr. Banner inside. There were only three medics in the room when they showed up, but they made quick work of running down Bruce’s vitals and testing him for concussions. Bruce shrugged them off after he seemed to gain some of his bearings, claiming it was just his body adjusting to traveling through space. The doctors looked at him as if he were paranoid, but Rhodey had enough experience on insane-stuff-that-just-happens-because-it’s-us that he didn’t question it.

“But what happened?” Rhodey prodded, still overwhelmed. “Where the heck have you been this whole time?”

So Bruce gave him the run-down version of his adventures across the galaxy. Some of it was hard to recall as most of his time was spent as Hulk, but he covered everything from start to finish.

“So let me get this straight,” Rhodey said, face unreadable. “You crashed on a trash-planet and lived there as Hulk for two years, then met Thor, helped him kill his psychotic sister, and blew up Asgard?”

“We didn’t blow up Asgard,” Bruce said with a grimace. “Well…okay, maybe we did, but Thor decided it was the only way to stop Hela and keep the remainder of his people safe.”

Rhodey’s face softened slightly. He realized what a rough time his two friends had had over the past few years, and saw that they’d had their fair share of hardships.

“Is Thor okay? And these….these Asgardians? They’re good too?”

“Thor and the survivors and I all escaped Asgard alright. We’ve been at space for a few weeks now.” Bruce looked as if he were recalling depressing memories. “Thor had Heimdall use his dark magic to send me ahead while he helped his people.”

Rhodey’s eyebrows shot up. “Dark magic?”

Bruce waved his hand. “I don’t know how to explain it, Rhodes. It’s Bifrost stuff, not exactly my area of expertise.”

“Wait…” Rhodey said, eyes flickering suspiciously. “You said Thor sent you ahead.”

Bruce nodded.

“Does that mean…does that mean everyone is coming here? To Earth?”

“Uh…yeah,” Bruce said uncertainly.

Rhodey sucked in a breath.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, Thor thinks this is the safest place for his people to be.”

Rhodey shook his head. “Bruce…don’t get me wrong, I want to help, but I don’t think the world is ready to open up immigration to aliens. The attack on New York still hasn’t blown over. Do you really think the government will just welcome them here with open arms?”

“And that’s why they sent me ahead, Rhodes,” Bruce implored. “They won’t be here for another seven months. The spacecraft has enough provisions to last them on the trip here, but they need help. Most of the survivors are women and children, and they’ll need a place to stay.”

Rhodey considered the information. “Seven months gives us more time to work with,” he agreed. “The UN might not be hip on this, though.”

Bruce looked slightly confused. “The UN? Who’s, who’s…” Bruce shook his head and swayed slightly.

“You good?” Rhodey asked, reaching forward to steady him. The Doctor lurched sideways and gripped the railing of one of the hospital beds.

“This isn’t a Code Green is it?” the Colonel asked fearfully. That was the last thing Rhodey wanted on his hands right now. The Board was finally getting off their backs on the damage they’d caused in Germany. It would kind of be awkward if the Hulk, whom Rhodey had just claimed to Ross he didn’t know the whereabouts of, started wreaking havoc in the Compound.

But Doctor Banner just shook his head, blinking slowly. “No…not that…I actually think the other guy is taking a break for a while. Haven’t felt him since…since after Asgard.”

He rubbed the side of his head tiredly. “My head’s just spinning. I’m pretty sure Bifrost travel is only meant to be used by gods.”

Rhodey scoffed. “Yeah, maybe upgrade your visa next time you travel through space.”

“Colonel Rhodes,” one of the doctors interrupted quietly. Rhodey glanced at the medics. “If there isn’t anything else…”

He nodded. “Right, you can go now. Sorry for the short notice.”

The doctor, Gibson, Rhodey recalled, just shrugged ruefully. “Don’t be. It’s what we’re here for, and we haven’t had much to do for a while.”

One by one they filed out of the room, leaving Banner and Rhodey to themselves. Banner looked around and seemed to notice for the first time how empty the place was. The many corridors that could be seen through the glass walls were all deserted and dark. The view outside revealed a bare yard and parking lot. The place looked untouched.

“So…” Bruce said, twisting his hands nervously. “Where is everyone?”

Rhodey’s eyes widened slightly, suddenly struck with how much Bruce missed out on in the past few months.

“Where’s Nat? And Tony? Are they all in Manhattan or…?”

Rhodey sighed and opened his mouth to reply, but FRIDAY interrupted.

“Incoming call from Secretary Ross.”

Darn. The whole Board probably wanted to know what was going on, and they would be breathing down their necks to get Bruce to sign once they found out he was at the Compound. Would he want to sign? Would he have to make a run for it like the others had? Rhodey watched Banner’s eyes cloud over.

“Ross…Thaddeus Ross?”

Rhodey knew that Banner and Ross didn’t have the best relationship. He hoped this wouldn’t lead to another bloody fall-out.

“Decline the call, FRIDAY,” Rhodey said, surprising himself a little. Tony was the one to put the Board on hold, Rhodey always answered. But he needed to explain to Bruce before things got too steamed up.

Rhodey sighed and faced Dr. Banner. “Things…things have changed a lot since you’ve been gone, Bruce.”

Banner’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean? What happened?”

“The others…” Rhodey trailed off, loathing the news he had to break.

“The others? Are they all right? Where are they?”

Rhodey hesitated. “The Avenger’s broke-up, Bruce.”

Bruce stared at him uncomprehendingly. “Broke up? Like, like a band—like the Beatles?”

“We haven’t been in contact with them for a month now. They’ve all gone into hiding.”

Bruce looked absolutely horrified. “Hiding…?”

Rhodey nodded and turned away, gazing out across the Compound through the windows. “Tony and Captain had a fallout. I don’t think things are going to settle anytime soon.”

They might never settle. What happened between the Avengers had been bad. It had happened, and there was no going back. They might not ever move forward either.

“Rhodey…,” Bruce said, and Rhodes turned back to Bruce’s confused expression. There was also a touch of fear in his eyes. Bruce had been part of a lot of scuffles between the team. They had faced a lot of disputes and disagreements with each other, but in the end…in the end they always came back together and fought side by side. Bruce saw the solemn, haunted look in Rhodey’s expression, and he knew that this time, it wasn’t the case. Something bad had happened. Was still happening.

“What’s going on?” he asked quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, next chapter won't be so depressing. Promise. And Peter will be in it. Promise. And I'll post it soon. Promise. And...I guess we'll soon find out how good I am at keeping promises.  
> Please comment! This is my first work so I'd love feedback.


	2. It Could Be Worse

_3 Months Later_

“Join me,” came a husky voice behind Peter as he shoved his books into his locker. “And together, we’ll build my new Lego death star.”

Peter turned to his best friend with an incredulous look. “What?!” he gasped out excitedly.

Ned Leeds just bobbed his head, his eyes bright with enthusiasm as he clutched a Lego figure of Darth Sidious.

“No way, that’s awesome! How many pieces?”

“Three thousand eight hundred and three,” he replied.

“That’s insane,” Peter muttered, closing his locker.

Ned squealed. “I know! You wanna build it tonight?”

“Uh, yah,” he replied, as if the answer was obvious, already thinking in depth of how fun this project would be. “I bet we could even add some features off-manual.”

“Yeeesss,” Ned agreed, gripping the straps of his backpack as they both trekked down the crowded hallway of students towards their first hour class.

“Rise and shine Midtown Science and Technology,” came Betty’s voice on the monitors, her face showing up next to Jason’s on the screens in the hallway.

“Students, don’t forget your tickets for homecoming,” Jason started with announcements, but Peter couldn’t hear the rest as their voices drowned out over the mass of students rushing to their classes. He tried to avoid getting shoved by a group of Juniors that were following around a drone and snickering, until Principal Morita snatched it from the air and beckoned them to his office in a stern voice. Peter felt bad for them. After all, it was a cool drone, probably built it themselves. The nice thing about going to Midtown was that everyone was a whiz at building and science, which meant Peter got to see new inventions and trinkets each day. Everyone was a nerd here. Unfortunately, the social hierarchy of High School still put him and Ned at the bottom of the popularity ladder. They forever remained the nerds of the nerds.

He almost reached his classroom before he his attention zoned out across the hallway. A tall, dark-haired girl walked past, casually talking to the girls around her and laughing at something one of them had said. He could have sworn her eyes met his briefly as she turned, and his mind sort of tuned out as he stared blatantly. Liz had that effect on him. Since he’d joined the Decathlon team at the start of the school year two weeks ago, the confident girl had always made him feel like he’d been struck whenever she was nearby, always stuttering and gazing at her like an idiot. She was the coolest, most nicest person he’d ever met, and he knew she was way out of his league. She was a Senior, president of the Decathlon team, and part of the Student Officers board. Whereas Peter Parker was a Freshman, a complete socially awkward nerd, and…well, Peter Parker. He didn’t even stand a chance. But those reasons still couldn’t keep him from crushing on her and staring unashamedly at all her amazing-ness.

“Peter. _Peter_. Dude, snap out of it,” Ned said, waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention.

Peter broke his gaze as Liz walked around the corner, and blinked at Ned. “Huh?”

Ned smiled and shook his head knowingly. “I was asking if you wanted to build the Death Star at mine or your house?”

“Yours,” Peter replied immediately. “Let’s go to your house.”

The other boy nodded, his eyes a little hesitant from an unspoken message. Peter knew Ned worried about how often he avoided his own home, but he never complained or seemed to be bothered by it. He spent nearly every day at Ned’s, and though he felt embarrassed about how much he asked to stay longer at the Leeds’, he could never bring himself to stop.

“Sure thing,” Ned said. “My mom’s got work at six tonight, though, so we won’t have long to build it.”

Ned gave him a slightly apologetic look. Mrs. Leeds’ number one rule was that she had to be at the apartment when Peter and Ned hung out. The Asian woman always took responsibilities seriously and liked to be there to watch over them. Ned always complained to Peter how she treated them like two-year-olds, but Peter knew Mrs. Leeds was just protective of her son, and for some amazing reason, she was protective of Peter too. He didn’t know what he’d done to earn her fondness, but it felt sort of nice to have someone worrying over him and making sure he didn’t do anything stupid. He supposed being a mom did those sorts of things to you.

Peter nodded in response to Ned’s comment, trying to ignore how desperate he must seem to his friend. He didn’t want Ned to know how Peter’s heart sank whenever they could only hang out for a short time, or not at all. He didn’t want him to know how Peter felt anxious when he had to eventually say goodbye each day and head home. He was sure Ned knew anyways.

Ned pretended not to notice his friend’s sudden reserve and eagerly described the death star to lighten his mood. Peter smiled and chatted back, both boys sitting down at their desks as the tardy bell rang.

Peter felt his daily routine set in place as Señor Horerez began their Spanish lesson. He listened as the man began teaching, hanging on every word he said and turning it over in his mind. They weren’t learning anything interesting, and most of the class had dozed off about three minutes in, but Peter remained attentive. Because it helped when he listened to each word and replayed it in his mind. It helped when he slowly counted the seconds in between each sentence and timed out each phrase. Because doing this made time move slower for him. It drew the day out longer and made each hour further away, and that was exactly what he wanted. He found himself writing down chemical equations on his notebook when he could no longer get his brain to pay attention to the teacher, opting instead to do the next best thing.

When Peter was focused, everything slowed down. He couldn’t allow himself to get distracted, because that would make the minutes pass by too quickly for him, and he needed those minutes at school. He needed those seconds at Ned’s house. Peter needed all of it because he once it was all over and he went home, he couldn’t go back until the next day.

So he continued on. The class ended with the ring of a bell, too soon for Peter’s taste, and next they had Chemistry. Ms. Warren asked questions that Peter intentionally took his time in answering on his homework. They went over problems that Peter knew the answer to, but he held back in hopes that the longer they spent discussing it, the longer the hour would slide by.

“Peter,” Ms. Warren finally called on him as she gestured to an equation on the board, eyeing him with a look that told him she knew he would answer correctly. 

Peter answered with a lengthy explanation, and he could just catch Flash Thompson’s glare from a few seats in front. Flash had always hated Peter, the older boy never forgiving him for replacing him on the Decathlon team and booting him to standby. Peter took his taunts and insults without fight, though, because the boy was stronger than him—Flash was one of the few students in the STEM school that was an athlete—and irking him didn’t seem like the best course of action for puny Peter Parker to take. As much as his blood boiled at Flash’s sneers towards him, he held back for fear that one day the bully would feel pressed beyond verbal abuse and name calling to more violent methods.

Peter’s day passed methodically, his hour at Decathlon the only class he really took the time to enjoy, because one: they were working towards upcoming Nationals at DC in a few months, and two: Liz. _Stop staring Parker before it becomes awkward_ , he chided himself when he noticed Michelle smirking at his regard towards Liz, mouthing “loser” at him before returning to her novel.

Peter drug his feet to his last class of the day, school approaching its end. He comforted himself in knowing he’d be going to Ned’s, but the time spent there was always too quick and passed by effortlessly before Peter had to inevitably head home.

History was the last class of the day, and by far the most interesting, or at least, ever since school had started it had been. Midtown High School focused mainly on science and mathematics, so history used to be more of a laid back, unimportant class that students took. Not anymore. Not since the ‘War’ with the Avengers. Since all the craziness with Captain America going rogue with some others, and then the Accords, it was all anyone could talk about. Now, almost three months later, they still talk about it in class, and History was that opportunity to talk, much to the displeasure of their teacher. Most teachers loved questions. Mr. Coriner winced at every hand now-a-days.

“So why did the Avengers sign the Accords, Mr. Coriner?” Cathy asked as their teacher was tentatively beginning another government-required lesson on the Accords.

“We’re discussing the Accords here,” Mr. Coriner practically begged. “Not the Avengers.”

“Do the Avengers still fight aliens?” Justin called from the back.

 “Let’s not get off topic. We’re talking history, not politics.”

“Then why do we have to study these accords?” someone complained. “They literally just happened, like a month ago.”

“It’s good to keep up with what’s going on in the modern world as well.”

“You’re literally contradicting yourself, but whatever,” Michelle muttered underneath her breath, not even glancing up from the book she was engrossed in, but many of the students around her heard and echoed her protest. Soon the entire class was arguing over their point of view on the Avengers initiative, and Mr. Coriner was trying unsuccessfully to calm their heated debate.

This was a normal history class for Peter. Ever since the breakup of the Avengers, it’s all they could talk about, nothing else seemed important. Peter was curious about the Avengers as well. He’d grown up hearing about Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, seen them on TV, and even witnessed them save New York from the Chitauri attack when he was young—well, young _er_. It was almost surreal to see them disbanded. They were supposed to be invincible. He couldn’t deny it was a little disheartening to see your childhood heroes turn into war criminals and abandon earth, especially New York, where the Avenger’s Tower still stood in Manhattan, once a beacon of hope, now just a reminder that the superheroes were gone. Even Iron Man hadn’t been seen around, and he was usually the most public figure out of all the Avengers, being a billionaire bred to display his face in front cameras.

Peter knew all these debates on TV, all these arguments in class, and all these doubts spreading through everyone’s minds bled one question: were the Avengers really gone?

The government just ignored this question the world kept asking, and instead pressed the idea of the Accords, stressing that _they_ would keep the world safe, not the Avengers. This was all the school would teach them as well, among other vague things. It was clear not even the teachers understood why they were so important. Peter and Ned had looked them up after school one day, and apparently they were a list of guidelines set in place for enhanced individuals and the Avengers. There wasn’t much more information other than that.

“So does that mean the Avengers work for the government now?” Ned had asked after their useless search. “Is that why they’ve disappeared?”

Peter shook his head. “Obviously Captain America doesn’t work for the Government,” he reasoned. “They’re trying to track him down right now and throw him in jail.”

Ned scoffed. “As if they could do that to _the_ Captain America. There are like, protests everywhere in DC right now just to get him and the others pardoned. People would murder to make sure Cap gets away.”

Peter couldn’t say anything to that. He didn’t know what to think about Captain America. It seemed farfetched that he would help an enhanced HYDRA soldier break out of prison, and then attack Iron Man and the others in Germany; didn’t seem patriotic or right, and Captain America literally stood for those kinds of things. Even to teenagers in High School, it seemed like the Government was keeping the full story from them, and that was why History class was always spent in heated discussion.

The bell suddenly rang, signaling the end of school. Mr. Coriner slumped in his chair at another unsuccessful lesson as students streamed out of the room, still talking loudly about the Avengers.

“I have a poster of Hawkeye in my room,” some boy said. “I don’t care if the government thinks he’s bad. Their just jealous of his sweet skills.”

“I wish Black Widow was still on the team,” Michelle mumbled to no one in particular, though she stood near Ned and Peter, so maybe it was directed to them. “She was the only member who had brains and self-respect. Actually, maybe that’s why she’s not on the team anymore. The Avengers suck.”

Ned gaped. “Did you seriously just say that?”

Peter’s lips twitched at Michelle’s uninterested gaze. She shrugged and walked the opposite direction. “Later, losers.”

Ned shook his head, bewildered. “So, uh, you ready to knock out that Death Star?”

Peter nodded. “We don’t have robotics lab today, and band meets tomorrow. Let’s do this.”

Ned grinned and both boys waltzed out the doors.

 _Goodbye school_ , Peter thought grimly. _Please be here tomorrow_.

“Hey,” Peter said as they walked down an alley of the school in the direction of Ned’s apartment. He gestured towards one of the dumpsters down the narrow lane. “You think maybe we’ll find something to slap on our robot?”

Ned’s eyes widened. “Peter,” Ned said uncomfortably. “You know my mom doesn’t like it when we do that. She already told us she’d buy us the parts. Besides, if Tom and Liah find out…”

Peter shrugged. “They won’t find out. Besides, who cares if we sniff around for some good parts?”

Ned scrunched his nose. “Whatever. You can do the sniffing. I’m out.”

He waited as Peter scrambled up the side of the dumpster and literally dove in. Ned gave a disbelieving squeak. “Dude, doesn’t it bother that your swimming in literal garbage?”

“It’ll be worth it if I find something good,” Peter replied.

“Whatever. You are _not_ touching one piece of the Death Star until you decontaminate yourself.”

Peter grinned and tossed some bulky bags to the side. After a few moments of searching, he let out a triumphant shout.

He held a wrecked DVD player above his head like a flag of victory.

Ned oohed. “Sweet, dude. That’ll set us up for the robot and even some extra.”

Peter pulled himself from the trash bin, still grinning and clutching the player excitedly.

Ned shook his head. “I can’t believe we’re getting excited over a broken DVD player. I guess we’ll always be weirdos.”

Peter nodded solemnly as he examined their loot.

“C’mon,” Ned said. “You’re still taking a shower, though.”

Peter laughed and followed his best friend down the street.

 

 

Hanging out at Ned’s was as he expected every day. It was fun, but it didn’t last. As the digital clock on Ned’s dresser approached six, Mrs. Leeds knocked on the bedroom door.

“Alright, boys,” she called. “Time to call it quits.”

Ned sighed and stared at the skeleton of the unfinished Lego Death Star, wonder in his eyes. Peter smiled at his friend’s dramatics. Ned was a Lego eccentric. Even though Peter enjoyed building with his friend, he wasn’t as passionate about it as the other boy was. He glanced around the room a touch longingly as he fiddled with a Lego piece. Although Peter would never admit it to his friend, this place was more of a home to him than his foster home was. It definitely looked homier that his did. Legos and robot parts were scattered across the floor, a closet half-closed was filled with clothing. All of Ned’s walls held posters from Star Wars to science. His desk was a mayhem of wires, adapters, and his laptop. Ned was a whiz at computer programming and coding. Peter was pretty sure the guy could hack into any system and take over the world if he wanted. Luckily, his friend didn’t have any ulterior motives.

“I guess we can finish this next time you come over,” Ned said. Both boys reached over to perform their secret handshake. “Promise I won’t work on it without you,” he said as they split, pointing guns at each other

“You don’t have to do that,” Peter said, standing up from his position on the carpet. He knew how long his friend had ogled over this Lego set, and it didn’t seem fair that he’d have to wait on account of Peter.

Ned shrugged. “It’s no fun to build it alone, anyways. Next time, though, we actually need to study before we get distracted.”

“Hey, we tried, didn’t we?”

“Not very hard. We have a decathlon meet next week, Peter. If we don’t study for it, we could lose and then we wouldn’t make it to Nationals.”

Peter grabbed his backpack and swung it around his shoulder.

“Or even worse,” Ned added. “Flash could replace us, and we’d be booted to alternates. Ugh, if that happened, he’d never let us hear the end of it.”

Peter nodded. That would be horrible. Flash bothered them enough as it is. The Sophomore always strutted around the school like he owned it, flaunting his expensive attire and bragging himself to kingdom come. It would only get five times worse if he had something to dangle over ‘Penis’ Parker’s head.

“How about we study after band practice tomorrow?” Peter offered, trying to make it seem casual despite the desperate hope he was quietly clinging to. Ned nodded in response.

“Sure, let’s do it.”

Peter smiled in relief and walked out of his friend’s room.

“Bye, Ned,” he said over his shoulder.

“See you tomorrow, Peter.”

Peter met Mrs. Leeds at the door. She offered him a warm smile. “Do you need a ride home Peter? I’m on my way out myself.”

He shook his head, giving her a fake smile in return. “Thanks, but I’m good, Mrs. Leeds. I can just walk.”

The Asian woman pursed her lips slightly. She never liked it when Peter went home by himself, but the boy never accepted when she offered him a ride. He knew that she worked as a Personal Care Assistant on the other side of Queens, and he didn’t like the thought of adding to her load any more than he already had by forcing her to take him home every day.

“I’ll send you a text when I get home,” he assured, and that caused her to visibly brighten. Peter’s heart ached a little at seeing the pleasure on her face from his simple promise to let her know he made it home safely. It reminded him of Aunt May. No wonder the two women had become close friends. Mrs. Leeds nodded and gave him a quick hug. She always hugged him when he left. Maybe it was because she knew how much he craved them. Maybe it was because she felt sorry for him. Whatever the reason, Peter treasured them too much to reject them.

His smile turned more genuine when she finally pulled away, and he gave an awkward wave as he walked out of the apartment and down the steps. Once he was outside, however, working his way through the crowded streets of Queens, he felt his mood damper into anxiety. At the end of the day, no matter how hard he tried to distract himself, he always had to head back home. He didn’t know why he dreaded it so much. It wasn’t as if Tom and Liah were cruel to him, and the last thing he wanted to do was to seem ungrateful.

He definitely didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

Peter narrowly avoided getting hit by a cab driver as he crossed a road, distracted by his own thoughts, but he continued on his way before the driver could roll down his window and shout abuse at him.

He could think of only one thing that would prolong his return home a little longer, and so he took a quick detour at the corner and headed towards some apartment buildings near the edge of Queens. He wound through the streets, taking in the familiar homes and stores he’d grown up seeing. Peter was tempted to drop by Delmar’s, just to see a familiar face. Maybe even pet Murph like he used to every time he entered the sandwich store, but his self-consciousness outweighed his desire and he simply gazed at the store from across the street before moving on.

He hadn’t seen Mr. Delmar in five months, and he was bound to ask the boy questions, probably starting with Peter’s very dingy attire. His clothes weren’t so bad, just old and torn at the edges, an he’d duct tapped the hole in the sole of his sneakers fairly well. He figured he could get the shoes to last about another month before he would work up the courage to ask Tom for a new pair. His appearance wasn’t _that_ scrappy, only to people who knew him well, like Ned and his mom, or Mr. Delmar, but he didn’t like uncomfortable questions, so he avoided the subject and Delmar’s altogether. Plus, Mr. Delmar might not even know about his new ‘situation’, and he would want to know where Peter had been the past five months.

“ _Stay in school, kid_ ,” he’d said the day before the accident. “ _Otherwise you’ll wind up like me_.”

Peter had thought back then that that wasn’t such a bad thing, and he’d voiced as much to the older man. Maybe Mr. Delmar hadn’t taken him seriously, and maybe Peter hadn’t understood what he’d been trying to advise the young teenager, but Peter felt that he knew now what Mr. Delmar had meant, and he still believed the middle-aged store owner had it good. A small business to call his own, a few close friends that cared about him, a home. Maybe Mr. Delmar didn’t know how good he had it, but Peter did, and he was happy for him and his old tabby cat. Maybe he’d stop by another time, when he had the courage to face the life he used to have and the people who were in it.

Peter didn’t realize he’d made it to his old apartment until he was standing in a wide alleyway looking up the familiar fire escape. His gaze followed the metal railings that clung to the back of the cracking building, counting up the floors until he reached what he knew to be his old bedroom window. He wanted to climb up the fire escape and look into his old apartment, to see his room and maybe get a peak into the living room that held the worn-out couch and box TV. The place held so many memories.

May and he had moved there after Uncle Ben had died, when money had been tight, or at least tighter than normal. They were both still grieving. Peter had been nine years old and hadn’t been able to comprehend fully why his uncle wasn’t coming home anymore. He remembered crying miserably into his aunt’s arms, and she had held him and soothed him, too strong to let the tears fall for herself. But he remembered their first night there, once they’d moved their few belongings into the small apartment, Miss Gibit had appeared at their front door with a bundle of flowers and welcomed them as her new neighbors. Aunt May had cried over the flowers and hugged the elderly lady tightly for what seemed like hours. Miss Gibit had been a close friend since that first night, and Peter had always stayed at her apartment when his aunt had to work late at the hospital. He missed Miss Gibit. He missed Aunt May.

Peter felt the tears pricking his eyes, and he suddenly realized what a bad idea it had been to come back here. _Darn it_ , he thought miserably, wiping his eyes to keep the tears from falling. He hadn’t been planning to deal with his grief today. In fact, he’d been doing pretty well the past few weeks to distract himself from his melancholy. Hanging out at Ned’s had helped, going to school and silently obsessing over Liz had helped. Reminiscing over his childhood home? Not helping.

He intentionally turned on his heel and made his way back on his route home, refusing to look back at the apartment. He would visit later, when he had better control over his emotions and would be able to fully appreciate the memories his old home held. Right now, though, they were still a little tender.

His sadness switched almost instantly to worry when twenty minutes later he was standing in front of a small box home in a quiet area of Queens. He found himself in this position nearly every day, biting his lip with worry, fiddling with his hands, and basically going through every outcome in his mind as he studied the porch of his foster home, hesitant to open the door.

Knowing he had to just get it over with, Peter finally sighed and entered the home.

The small home looked just as decent as it did on the outside. It was cozy and not too shabby. To anyone else, it might seem comfortable and homey. Peter couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal every time he walked down its hallways. He contemplated heading straight for his room and staying there until dinner, which was usually a late affair since Liah always worked until evening, but a voice stopped him before he could make it to the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Peter froze fearfully at the icy tone. _Crap_.

But a moment later, he let out a breath of relief as someone other than him answered, sounding from the living room. “What does it look like I’m doing, Lee?”

Peter inched to the end of the hall, making sure his feet didn’t creak on the floorboards and peeked around the corner. The scene before him was one he’d seen dozens of times before. His heart sank as he saw his two guardians facing each other in the living room, both rigid. Neither noticed Peter’s presence in the room, and he was perfectly fine with that.

Liah was braced against the kitchen counter, car keys clutched in her hands. She must have just come home from work, earlier than usual but not uncommon. She looked furious and her full attention was directly centered to the man lounged on the couch directly opposite to her, laptop resting on his knees.

Usually Tom was the only one around when Peter came home, hence why Peter dreaded coming home. The middle-aged man always had a temper on him, but this time, the fury seemed to be radiating off of Liah, which was actually pretty normal as well, come to think of it. Liah was almost always peeved with Tom, but her reasons tended to be more valid than her particularly angry husband.

“You want me to tell you what it looks like you’re doing?” Liah questioned, face twisted in disgust. “It looks like you’ve been wasting yourself over that computer all day. Looks like you didn’t get my text asking you to pick up some takeout for dinner tonight. Looks like you forgot it was your turn to take out the trash. Looks like you forgot everything important and only thought about yourself!”

Peter cringed inwardly at her harsh words. He noted the way Tom’s fists clenched tightly as he faced his wife, defenses hackled, and seeing the anger in his eyes sent warning bells off in Peter’s mind, urging him to flee, to find a safer place, but he remained rooted in his spot.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Lee,” Tom said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to control his frustration.

“I can’t believe you!” she screeched back. “You spend all day sitting in front of that screen, and you expect me to do everything. Food doesn’t just magically appear on the table whenever it’s convenient for you. I’m not your maid, you jerk.”

Wow. She was really laying it into him. Even though it was well deserved, Peter silently begged her to stop. An irritated Tom wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. He preferred the Tom that ignored everything and pretended Peter didn’t exist.

“Liah—,” Tom began, standing up and walking towards her disarmingly.

“I’m sick of it!” she shouted over him, waving away his inviting hands. “You promised things would get better, but it’s been a year. I’m still stuck working at that stupid firm, answering phone calls to self-righteous oldies, and breaking my back to get my boss to notice me, and you’re here all day, lounging on the couch and sipping beer. When do I get _my_ break, huh?”

“I help where I can, babe,” he smoothed over.

“Really.”

“Yah, really. I know you’re having a rough time at work.” Tom leaned forward and brushed Liah’s tense arms soothingly. “Maybe it looks as if I’m not supporting you, but I am. I’d do anything to help you.”

She scoffed and stepped away from Tom’s hands, slapping her keys on the counter. “I’d be surprised if you even knew the meaning of help. You can’t even lift a single finger around here.”

“I do help!” Tom was getting frustrated again. “Who do you think keeps this place clean while you’re gone?”

Peter let out a small huff of annoyance and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yes, the home was clean, but that was on no account of Tom. He had threatened Peter this morning to get him to clean up the older man’s junk, using Peter’s hangouts with Ned as leverage. It was a simple deal the two struck whenever Liah wasn’t home—clean up the house, and you can go to your friend’s. It never bothered Peter, but he still hated it when Tom tried to credit himself for something he didn’t do.

“And the kid!” Tom said, causing Peter to scowl further as he knew where this excuse was going. “I spend all day looking after him, and what do I get out of it?”

Of course Tom would play the ‘kid’ card. He always did and it was beginning to drive Peter nuts. He was hardly home as it was, but he was still the man’s number one lie when it came to appeasing Liah, and it was something the younger boy could never stand for.

He held Tom accountable for what happened next. Peter stepped further into the room to grab the bickering couples’ attention.

“Um, hey guys,” Peter said quietly, swallowing uncomfortably when their eyes immediately swiveled to him. “Uh…just wanted to let you know I’m home now.”

Peter inwardly cursed his own words. Was he trying to make things worse for himself? He wanted to turn around and retreat to his room, but Tom’s scowl immediately found an outlet and he focused on Peter.

“See what I mean, Lee? He hardly lets me know anything! I’ve been worried about where he’s been all day, and just now he turns up!”

Peter gaped at his words. Unfair! Like he cared at all about Peter’s whereabouts. He felt like he was in a game of childish tug-a-war, struggling to get Liah on his side as he fought with Tom.

“I—I was at Ned’s.” The answer should have been obvious to everyone in the room. He was _always_ at Ned’s. “I would have called—”

“But you didn’t,” Tom interrupted, pleased that Liah’s intense gaze was no longer focused on him. “You just thought about hanging out with your friend all day. You didn’t even stop to think that we’d be wondering where you were this entire time.”

Peter opened his mouth to protest at the unfair statement, but Tom continued.

“You didn’t even do your chores.” Peter felt like scoffing. Of course he didn’t do his chores. It didn’t count as chores when you did everything around the place, but Peter didn’t want Tom to use yet another thing against him, to threaten him with, so he quickly glanced around the small home for an escape. Other than Tom’s empty beer cans scattered on the coffee table, the home was relatively tidy.

“Um, I could do the dishes?” he offered weakly as he took in the few dirtied plates resting in the sink. It seemed to be enough to please Liah, however, because she nodded.

“Thanks, Peter, dear,” her voice sickly sweet as she averted her scowl from Peter back to Tom. He felt like he should have remained silent.

“No—no problem, Liah” he said. “Uh, if you’re stressed about it, I can do the dishes when I get home each night.” Peter’s proposal fell on deaf ears as Liah glowered at her husband.

“See what I mean, Tom?” she growled out. “Even the kid knows how to pull his own weight. You…you are just incredibly useless.”

 _And…Parker wins the match_ , Peter thought smugly.

Liah whipped around and stormed into her room, slamming the door in Tom’s face as he tried to follow her. Peter only had time to smother his smirk at his victory before Tom turned to him, scowling.

“Why’d you do that?”

Peter’s stomach dropped under Tom’s glare, and immediately the fight, flight, or freeze instinct coursed through his body as the bigger man walked up to him. With Tom, he always froze. Always.

“Do you like making me look like a fool, huh?” Peter bit back a dozen retorts and focused on his flimsy sneakers. He’d learned from experience that eye contact with the beefy man never helped the situation.

“No, sir,” he mumbled.

“ _No, sir_ ,” mimicked Tom in a high, squeaky voice, then lowered it to a growl. “Why don’t you grow up?”

Peter scowled at the ground, refusing to speak back. It was kind of unfair that he had to deal with bullies at school and then at home. At least at school he could ignore Flash. Peter not only had to put up with Tom, but also had to listen to him as well. Why? Because he feared the man and what he could do.

“When I was your age, I went out and partied with my friends,” Tom drawled. “Don’t you have buds at school you can go get drunk with, instead of coming in here and making me look bad in front of my girl? Huh? Answer me twerp.”

He swallowed. “No, sir.”

“Huh, figures.”

Peter felt his face flushing. He shouldn’t let Tom’s words get to him, but they do. Harsh remarks were kind of Peter’s weakness, among a lot of other things. The older man reached forward and gripped the boy’s shoulder, causing a spike of fear to run through his chest. Tom’s strong fingers dug into his flesh painfully, and the man’s cold eyes locked onto Peter’s.

“Well maybe you should get yourself some friends and spend your time irritating them from now on, ok?”

“Ok,” he mumbled.

“Because I can’t deal with a sassy teenager in my house,” he continued. “I have enough problems as it is. So if you’re going to try at being difficult, you might just find yourself back in the foster system faster than you can blink.”

Peter finally glanced up at Tom, paling in fear. It was a threat that he’d dangled over Peter’s head for so long, and one that he had complete control over. Peter nodded quickly.

“Yes, sir.”

It wasn’t that he liked complying to the man’s taunts. More like he didn’t have a choice. It was easier this way, anyways. As long as he kept his head low and obeyed his guardian, the less he had to worry about being kicked out. Besides, being rebellious really wasn’t his style. Or was it? Maybe eating the rest of the leftover spaghetti behind Tom’s back warranted as teenage rebellion. He wasn’t sure.

Tom eyed him for a while to make sure the threat hit home, then turned back to the couch, grabbing the TV remote from the coffee table.

“Now go upstairs,” he huffed dismissively

“But the dishes—”

“Leave them,” he snapped.

Peter turned, and without another word, retreated down the hallway and crawled up the stairs to his room, fuming quietly over Tom’s abrasiveness. The man was a lazy bum, Liah had been right about that. Ever since Peter had come to live with the couple five months ago, he’d done nothing but sit in front of the TV or computer, playing video games and watching porn. It was disgusting.

He expected Liah to have kicked him out by now, the couple could hardly go a few days without a fight like the one he’d just witnessed to explode, but for some reason, Liah kept him around. After every argument, Tom would inch his way back to the woman’s good side, showering her with kisses and tender apologies, and the next thing Peter knew, instead of screaming and shouting, he’d hear playful giggles and wrestling from his room. He knew tonight would be no different. Tom always blew his anger off on Peter and then gave his loving attention to Liah. It worked like a charm every single time, and Peter hated how…routine it was. Coming home every day to Liah’s disdain towards her husband and Tom’s contempt towards him, it was all like clockwork, and though his guardians never seemed to mind this lifestyle, Peter was thoroughly sick of it by now, and he’d only been living with them for five months so far.

But Peter couldn’t complain. Partially because he was afraid to. Tom always threatened to send him back into the System whenever the older man was annoyed and complaining would not help his cause. Another part of him felt that he was too picky of his situation. Honestly, he was probably a lot luckier than most foster kids his age, and he felt guilty whenever he silently complained. After all, Tom and Liah weren’t abusive. They didn’t starve him or beat him or lock him in the basement with the rats—they didn’t have a basement to confine him to in the first place—and that seemed to happen to all orphans like him. Ok, maybe those beliefs stemmed from various books and movies he’d seen based on pitiful orphans that were all probably unrealistic, but it could happen. And it hadn’t happened to him, so he was lucky. Right?

Peter crawled under his covers after he’d changed into his pajamas. He typed a quick text to Mrs. Leeds and the planned the rest of his evening of staring up at his ceiling in dismay.

He didn’t feel very lucky.

 _But I should_ , he tried to convince himself. _I should feel lucky_.

After the car accident, Peter had thought his life had ended. His last living relative had gone, and he felt alone, confused, and hurt. He remembered lying in the hospital bed, recovering from his own injuries after the crash. He’d been on the mend for a few days already before the doctors had finally informed him of his aunt’s passing. The whole world had turned numb after that. It was a crushing blow, and Peter hadn’t been ready for it. After sobbing ceaselessly for hours, his body and mind had slowly submitted to the fact he’d never be happy again. His aunt, the only mother he’d ever known, had been snatched from his life, and he was truly alone.

Then Ned and his mom had come. He felt weak, crying in front of his best friend like a child, but Ned had just hugged him and cried with him. It was a horrible and exhausting day, one that Peter hated recalling. But through it all, Ned had been there for him. Mrs. Leeds had even signed some temporary guardianship papers, and Peter had stayed with the Leeds after he’d been released from the hospital while Social Workers had searched for a suitable Foster Home for him.

Some fantasy inside of him had wished that Mrs. Leeds had kept him for good, but he knew how unrealistic the hope was, so he’d never let that hope grow any further. Though Mrs. Leeds was generous and kind to Peter, she always had work, and struggled to support just herself and Ned. Adding an extra charge to take care of was a burden Peter never wanted to inflict on her. So he cherished the weeks he spent at the Leeds, but eventually, they had to send him to Tom and Liah.

Living with strangers had been a sickening thought for him to digest, but it could have been worse. He still lived in Queens, Tom allowed him to enter Midtown High School because of his scholarship, and his new guardians hardly cared where he went or what he did as long as he wasn’t in the way and eventually came back home every night. The highlights were the frequent visits Mrs. Leeds and Ned gave him during his first couple weeks of acclimating to his foreign circumstance. When they soon realized that Tom and Liah grew frustrated with their constant visits, Ned started inviting Peter over whenever he could.

What helped the most was the school year starting up a few weeks ago. Peter had never been so relieved to spend more time away from his foster home. It felt good to slip into a sense of normalcy as he went to school like any other kid. He invested everything into Midtown by signing up for clubs and joining Decathlon, and then hanging out with Ned almost every day afterwards. School had become his haven. Ned’s house became his second home. And Peter began to realize that life continued on.

Though it was much bleaker without his aunt in it, Peter was mature enough to realize that he still had a roof over his head, food, school, Ned and Mrs. Leeds, basically everything he needed to get back up again and move on. He knew it was what May would have wanted, so he tried to remain grateful and shake off his sadness for her. Most days he could do it. But on days like today, when Tom’s scathing remarks got to him, he found it difficult to be grateful. He loathed the way the man always made him feel smaller than himself, and he was already a relatively small person to begin with.

Frustrated tears began to form unbidden in his eyes as Peter scrutinized the ceiling of his foster home.

 _It could be worse, but it could be better_. Peter tried to shake the unworthy thought aside. He had enough in life, no matter what Tom might have to say about it.

Peter scowled defiantly. _Get myself some friends, huh?_ he thought bitterly on Tom’s words. _Well, I do have friends. I do have things to do. I have Ned. I’ve got school. I don’t need you Tom, or Liah. I have_ everything _I need._

And as Peter fell asleep, he refused to think even once that he might not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I feel like I’ve broken all my promises from last chapter! :’(   
> This was waaay more depressing to write than I originally anticipated it to go. I’m not gonna lie, I sort of, kind of, TOTALLY cried towards the end (I was sleep-deprived; don’t judge). Peter deserves to be happy doggone it! Tony too! And I’m the kind of person who hates reading about depression, but I’m writing it?!?! I mean, hypocrite much??? This is part of the reason I couldn’t get this chapter posted soon enough. I hit a writer’s block literally every time I tried to write the last few pages. Ugh.  
> But hey! Glass half-full approach—when you hit rock-bottom you can only go up! (Trust me, this will go up)  
> \--  
> This next chapter, Tony’s still struggling to get back on his feet, and at this point, does he even really care? Luckily, he has great friends that don’t give a darn for his dramatics and are willing to yank him on his feet again. A lot of foreshadowing to Tony and Peter’s impending meeting-each-other-aha-moment…some super-secret spy stuff showered in as well (cough-Fury-cough), so don’t forget to bookmark this work so you don’t lose what happens next!  
> \--  
> See how I gave a little pre-summary nugget right there? That’s me giving you incentive for the next chapter. Your welcome! And thank you sooo much for kudos, and especially comments! Seriously, you guys, I’ll never, ever, EVER get enough constructive criticism to satisfy my unquenchable thirst, so keep the feedback coming! I love it!
> 
> p.s. I MOVED ARTWORK to a separate work, if you want to check it out, it's called "De Marvel Sketches"


	3. When You Hit Rock Bottom

“Care for another round, Stark?”

Tony glanced over at his bitter competitor and grinned easily.

“What for, Jeremy?” he said over the loud ruckus of the casino. “I just can’t seem to stop winning. I think my head has gotten big enough as it is, but hey, thanks for the fun.”

Tony slapped the other man on the shoulder, and the billionaire swapped his chips for a wad of cash the dealer passed him across the green craps table. All around them the noise of music, laughter, and talk filled the colorfully lit night-club. The place was very high-key. Located at the top of an expensive motel, the floor even consisted of a bar and balcony pool that overlooked the city of Las Vegas.

It had been the perfect distraction for Tony. He’d heard there was a party, so naturally, he felt inclined to crash it in typical Stark manner. His entertainment for the night entailed wiping the smirks off of every wealthy gambler in the place by conning them of their money. He had to admit, it was more fun than he expected.

He gave a bright nod to his latest victim, Jeremy Huston, owner of Huston Corporate, and made a move to saunter away from the table, but Jeremy grabbed his arm before the billionaire could get lost in the crowd.

“You won’t mind going again if you’re so certain you’ll win,” the man insisted, eyes alight with challenge.

The crowd that had gathered to watch the game all stared eagerly at the exchange. Tony Stark attending their midnight cocktail party had attracted a lot of attention and the billionaire had barely gotten a moment’s respite the entire night. He caught even more eyes when he’d challenged Huston to a game. Jeremy was well-known for his love of gambling, deep pockets, and short-temper. Everyone knew it was a bad idea to go toe-to-toe in betting with him. Money wasn’t an issue with Huston, it all came down to pride.

Tony chuckled amusedly, knowing it would only infuriate the other man further. “But what’s the fun in winning when the competition is hardly competition at all?”

Onlookers laughed at the comment. Jeremy flushed angrily, his grip on Tony’s arm tightening. Tony felt his defenses raising at the contact. As a general rule, he hated it when people got too close to him. He preferred to be arm’s length away from everyone in case they turned less than trustworthy. In his line of work, they were _always_ less than trustworthy.

“Listen here, Stark…”

Tony raised a hand before Jeremy could finish, waving a disapproving finger in the man’s face.

“The words ‘listen’ and ‘Stark’ should never be used in the same sentence, Huston. If you want to try your luck with someone else in the room, be my guest, but a word of advice…” he lowered his voice to a stage-whisper. “Gambling’s really not your thing.”

Tony saw the anger flash in the man’s drunken eyes at the words. He knew he was pushing him over the edge of aggression. Tony had been quietly mocking and irritating the man for the better part of an hour, and the steady stream of liquor intake wasn’t helping Huston either. It was however, creating a scene for Tony. And he just loved creating scenes.

“Let’s go again, Stark,” Jeremy threatened.

“Let’s not, Huston.” Tony gave the man a nod and pulled himself from his grasp, making his way out of the crowd.

He knew the punch was coming. He predicted it the moment he picked a bone with Huston, but it still came as such a pleasant surprise he almost laughed out loud. After all, few were stupid enough to punch Iron Man. The idea was so comical that Tony almost let it happen. _Almost_.

As the man’s fist swung forward from behind him, Tony quickly sidestepped the swing last second. He grabbed the man’s wrist and yanked him forward. Jeremy for his part, was too stunned that his fist met no resistance, and could only stumble forward as Stark tripped him to the floor.

People laughed and phones flashed pictures of the brawl. Tony brushed invisible lint from his suit jacket and smiled lazily down at him.

“Got to be quicker than that, Huston.”

The man leapt to his feet, gaze murderous. Tony was prepared for another ill-timed punch, but before Jeremy could so much as take a step in his direction, he was sprawled on the floor once more, this time taken down by a startled waiter working his way through the crowd.

The waiter stumbled forward around the man’s legs, his tray of drinks tilting dangerously as he maneuvered over the sudden obstacle at his feet. It was surprising that not one beverage fell off the platter as the server detangled himself from the man.

“I’m so sorry, sir!” the waiter apologized, leaning down to help him back up. Jeremy just looked confused. Perhaps one too many falls after a night of drinking did that to you. The crowd laughed even harder at the display.

Tony grinned at the waiter who was still struggling to help the man up and balance his beverages at the same time.

“Nice save.” He swiped a drink from the waiter’s tray and replaced it with the entire bulk of cash he’d just won. “Take a tip for those acrobats.”

He raised his glass in solute and sauntered through the parted crowd towards the bar, prepared to drink the night away. He felt slightly irritated by the phones held in many of the guest’s hands, snapping pictures of the scene that had just unwound. Though he was used to cameras and flashes like it was second nature to him, he knew that the more pictures taken, the more the paparazzi would be on his tail. He supposed he’d have to leave Vegas tonight and head to the next big city. Pity. He was really beginning to enjoy himself.

Tony walked up to the bar and seated himself on one of the high stools. He slid the drink in his hand aside—he never drank cocktails anyway—and tapped on the marble surface of the counter to get the bartender’s attention.

“Martini, please. Make it dry with olives.”

The bartender shot him a look from all the attention he was receiving but made no comment as he mixed the concoction. Eventually, the crowd realized that Tony Stark was done entertaining them for the night and one by one they slipped away to enjoy the party.

Tony allowed himself to wallow as he sipped the martini. In his defense, his drinking had mellowed out somewhat over the past few months. Now, instead of drinking himself numb twenty-four seven, he only felt the need to desensitize himself to get through the many sleepless nights. _Still_ , he thought wryly as he drank, _probably not my healthiest habit_.

He was on his third or fourth refill when he heard someone sit next to him. Hopefully it wasn’t Jeremy back for more blood. Tony wasn’t sure if he could block any punches drunk.

“That was quite the scene Mr. Stark,” a playful voice teased.

Tony turned to the voice. Well, it wasn’t Jeremy. A blonde woman in a bright red dress sat next to him, flashing him a wide smile and inching closer to his side, intentions obvious.

Tony forced a smirky grin. “What can I say? Trouble finds me wherever I go.”

“Really?” she murmured, her mouth close to his ear. Maybe ten years ago, Tony would have found her antics tempting, or at least amusing. Now, though? He was just struggling to control his wince every time her hand brushed his arm. The scent of her perfume hung heavy as she leaned closer to his chest.

“Sounds exciting…,” she whispered.

“The life of a superhero always is,” he quipped back, wanting more than ever to slide away from her touches.

The woman opened her mouth to reply, eyes half-lidded and fluttering, before her focus suddenly slid from the billionaire to something over his shoulder. Her face contorted into one of annoyance before she plastered on her fake smile once more.

Tony turned to see what had caught her attention.

Oh.

“Ah, Miss Potts.”

This couldn’t be good.

Pepper Potts stood before him in the loud casino, looking ever like the calm and assured CEO she was. She stood in her formal business attire, arms folded over her waist protectively as partygoers laughed and shouted around her. Pepper’s grey eyes scrutinized Tony with a look he couldn’t distinguish.

If Tony wasn’t so drunk, he might have had the intellect to realize how awkward the situation was, but he simply flashed a smile at his ex.

“I didn’t know you were in Vegas.” The casual tone came naturally, but inside Tony was squirming.

Pepper didn’t reply. She just stared at Tony in a way that made him want to crawl under a rock and never show his face in another casino again. He steeled himself under her gaze though, reminding himself of the reasons he was at a bar getting drunk in the first place. Wait…what were his reasons again?

Shaking himself from his distracted thoughts, Tony smiled between the two women as if he’d waited his whole life to introduce them.

“Have you two met? This is…” _Who exactly was this anyway, and why couldn’t he just die right now?_

“Tiffany,” the blonde introduced sweetly.

“Tiffany,” Tony repeated. He waved a hand in Pepper’s direction. “Tiffany, Miss Potts.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Potts,” Tiffany offered, smile way to bright to be genuine.

“Mr. Stark,” Pepper said, not even glancing the other woman’s way as she continued to regard Tony quietly. Tony knew that underneath her calm mask she was struggling to control her frustration towards her old boss.

“Would you please come with me for a moment? There’s something I should discuss with you.”

Tony sipped his drink. The last thing he wanted was to go anywhere with Pepper Potts.

“Something to discuss, eh? Bet it’s super-duper important and top-secret,” he mock-whispered, giving a conspiratorial wink to Tiffany. “Like ‘Iron Man’ top-secret.”

Tiffany giggled.

“Oh, it is,” Pepper replied calmly, barely batting an eye to the display before her.

“Well,” he said, stubbornness flaring. “I’ll just have a few more drinks, and then I’ll meet you at the lobby later. Sound good?”

Pepper gave him a forced, patronized smile. The only thing that gave away her collected disguise was the tense anger in her eyes.

“Unfortunately, it can’t wait.”

“Oooh, it _is_ super-duper important,” he said. “I’ll meet you down the lobby after one drink, then.”

“Something tells me you wouldn’t be able to make it to the _elevator_ without help, let alone the lobby, so I’ll just...” She stepped forward and plucked the drink from Tony’s hands, sliding it down the counter and out of his reach. Pepper grabbed his arm and swung it around her shoulder as he slipped from his stool with little resistance.

Tony wanted to say no. He wanted to argue and maybe apologize for…everything, but Pepper gave him a cool look that stopped any words from leaving his mouth. She was mad. That much was obvious. Who wouldn’t be mad to find their missing ex-boyfriend drunk in a casino with some woman? Tony knew she was only holding back her fury due to the fact that they were in the middle of a crowd, most of whom were once more taking pictures. Tony suddenly hated them. Couldn’t they get out of his face for one second, especially since this would reflect badly on Pepper.

Tiffany leaned over and slipped a paper into his suit jacket before they could walk away.

“Call me,” she said with a wink. Tony couldn’t look at Pepper. He couldn’t.

Dang it. He looked.

She pulled him wordlessly out of the bar, away from the longing gaze of Tiffany, and through the casino, head held high despite how degrading the situation must be for her. He wanted to apologize. Again and again he wanted to say he was sorry, but he held back. You had to actually feel sorry to say sorry. As much as he regretted it, he wasn’t sorry that he was here. He wasn’t sorry that Pepper had to see him like this.

Ugh, since when had he become such a despicable human being?

As the elevator closed and took them to the ground floor, the silence in the small box room was suffocating. Pepper refused to look at him. Tony refused to say anything that might make her not mad at him. Being mad was better than pitying him, or even helping him. Being mad was good because it kept the distance between them.

She pulled him through the lobby once the elevator stopped. Thankfully there were no paparazzi hanging around to flash pictures or ask uncomfortable questions. It was actually surprising that there wasn’t a single reporter around trying to catch some hot stories at a midnight cocktail party, but Tony wasn’t going to complain.

She led him out into the loud streets of Vegas, pausing as a valet rushed to bring her car to the front.

Tony felt like the awkward silence had gone on long enough.

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye to Michelle.” Okay, maybe that wasn’t best way to break the very thin ice he was treading on.

“Tiffany,” Pepper corrected stiffly, still refusing to glance his way.

Tony nodded. “Yah, her.”

And…the awkward silence was back. Pepper’s lips remained tightly closed, and Tony was too afraid to open his mouth again in case something stupid came out.

A black rental pulled up in front of them and Pepper quickly removed herself from under Tony’s arm. He stumbled a bit from the unexpected lack of support as she opened the back door.

“Get in the car,” she ordered.

“Did Rhodey put you up to this?” Tony asked, finding his words now that Pepper was bossing him around. She was always telling him what to do, so it felt natural to always talk back.

“Just get in the car.”

“Got to be either him or Brucie, I think I’m their new pity project.” While he spoke, he gingerly crawled into the back of the rental. He was still tipsy from his drinking and he didn’t want any sudden movements to cause him to hurl the contents of his stomach on the floor of the expensive Audi. That would definitely not help his situation. Pepper closed the door loudly and slipped into the driver’s seat, pulling out and away from the casino.

He would have loved it if she’d given him the silent treatment for the rest of the ride, but he knew that he’d get no such luck as Pepper glared at him in the review mirror once the building was out of sight.

 “Do you know why I’m here, Mr. Stark?” Pepper dropped her cool façade, the bite in her tone clear as she glared at the street before her. It looked like she had a serious case of road rage and Tony discreetly grabbed his seatbelt and fastened it tightly in front of him. He’d never been in the car with Pepper driving before, but he knew the fiery woman well enough to be wary.

“I have a few ideas in the back of my mind,” he replied to her question. “But because I hate guessing games, how about you just tell me and we get this lecture over with?”

The first rule when it came to Pepper Potts was to not antagonize her. So, naturally, Tony has done nothing _but_ antagonize her for the past thirteen years he’s known her. Sometimes it was unintentional. This wasn’t one of those times.

Pepper shot him a cold glare in the review mirror.

“Rhodey called me.”

“Yah?” Tony tried to sound pleasantly curious, what came out was a groan.

“Do you want to know the number of times he’s had to ward off the UN from seizing your suits and prosecuting you?”

“They wouldn’t be able to do that, Pep, and you know it. Rhodey doesn’t have to stick his neck out for me, I have it completely handled.”

“No, you don’t and yes, he does apparently! You’ve been ignoring his calls, you’ve been ignoring the Board, you’ve been ignoring all the meetings. The missions, the conferences, everything!”

He shrugged. “I must have lost my calendar, or something.”

“You mean it’s not because you’ve been to _six_ different states within the past three months, cut off satellite tracking on your phone, and virtually disabled _all_ communication with us?”

“…That could be part of it, I guess. How’d you find me anyway?”

She gave him a baleful look. “It wasn’t easy. Luckily a guy who works for SI was on vacation and recognized you in a motel yesterday.” Pepper gripped the steering wheel. “He called and all it took was for me to find the most popular party in town.”

“Nice spy work.”

“You are unbelievable,” she fumed, turning a little sharper than necessary down another street. “You can’t just disappear like that.”

Tony was about to give a sarcastic response, but she continued.

“Rhodey and Bruce are having enough trouble as it is, getting ready for the Asgardian immigrants to come in a few months—”

“I though that was all settled?”

Pepper huffed. “It is, but the board still isn’t sold on the idea.”

“Well the decision isn’t up to them, anyhow. The Norwegian Government has allowed it, so it’s happening. They need to let it go.”

“And what about Wakanda?”

Tony raised an eyebrow. Pepper was obviously attempting to guilt-trip his inactivity over the past few months.

“Pepper, just because His Majesty the Kitty-Cat was on my side during the fallout with Cap doesn’t mean I need to get involved when he decides to drop a Vibranium bomb on the UN’s heads. If he wants to expose his secrets and share his toys with everyone, that’s up to him.”

“You can’t just ignore this! You can’t ignore everything!” She tried to take a few calming breaths before continuing. “Look, I know things have been rough ever since…”

“The War,” Tony interjected as Pepper struggled with her words. “That’s what they’re calling it these days, Miss Potts. The Avengers threw some punches for a week and they called it a bloody War.”

“Whatever they’re calling it, it’s not enough to tear yourself up over. You’re letting yourself go. You haven’t been at the Compound for _three months_ , you haven’t accepted any missions, and you’ve completely ignored us. Why, Tony?”

He stared out the window of the car.

Pepper sighed. “This is a little over-the-top, even for you. _Three months_? You thought you could just drop everything and not tell us where you were. That’s not something even you can do. You have responsibilities to the company and to the Board. Don’t you care that people are depending on you?”

Tony felt his defenses rising as she spoke. He hated how right she was. “The world still turns without Tony Stark.”

Pepper shot him a look from her review mirror.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I’m done, Pep,” Tony growled. “I’m done with people depending on me. I’m done having to be the one to clean up my messes and everyone else’s. Rhodey is trying to get me to be Iron Man again. The UN, Bruce, you, the _whole world_ is just sitting back and waiting on me to fly around and start protecting them again. Guess what, though?” He leaned forward in his seat, gripping the leather edges angrily.

“The world doesn’t need me to solve their problems. You don’t need to peel me off bar floors so you can feel good about yourself—so you can ultimately convince me to start caring again, because I’m _done_.”

There was silence in the car after that. Pepper looked like she was struggling whether to continue yelling at him or pity him. Tony couldn’t blame her. He was really pathetic, it was almost painful.

“So…,” he tried to find a way to dispel the tension in the air. He suddenly hated how he’d just exposed all of his raw feelings for Pepper to scrutinize. He shouldn’t have said anything.

“…good talk,” he finally said, hoping that would be the end of it.

Pepper sighed and shook her head in frustration.

“I know exactly what you’re doing, Tony.”

“Oh?”

“And as much as I love watching you revert back to the drunk playboy you were before Afghanistan,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, “it’s too late.”

Tony nodded. “I agree. It’s _waaay_ too late, Miss Potts. Perhaps we could finish this conversation in morning?”

“I’m trying to tell you,” she snapped. “That if you think that you can convince the world that you’re the self-absorbed and a pathological drunk you were before, it won’t work.”

Tony stiffened.

“You’re not convincing anyone,” she continued. “You’re just pushing us away.”

“I don’t know,” he snarked back. “I can be pretty convincing when I want to be.”

“That’s right, you can. And you already convinced everyone five years ago, when you flew into that wormhole, that Tony Stark cares, that he’s cared from the beginning.”

Tony could hear the pounding of his heart ringing in his ears. No. That wasn’t true. Iron Man had cared. Iron Man saved people. Iron Man was the one that sacrificed himself. Tony Stark only cares about himself.

Not missing a beat, Tony flashed Pepper a grin.

“Aw, Miss Potts. You know how I feel about sweet sentiments. Can’t handle them.”

Pepper huffed. “You’re just—you’re so—”

“Charismatic?” Tony guessed. “Handsome?

She shook her head and gave up. The rest of the ride to the hotel was spent in silence, but it was less tense than before, as if they had both worn each other out. Pepper still looked extremely ticked off, though.

She didn’t say another word as she pulled up to the hotel and removed Tony from the car, handing the keys off to a valet. She kept her grip firm on Tony’s arm as she guided him through the hotel’s lobby and to the elevator, and a good thing, too. If it were up to him, he wouldn’t have even made it to the foyer. Probably would’ve just bedded down by the potted plants at the entrance. When they reached one of the topmost floors, Pepper drug him down the hallway to his room, handing him his keycard.

Before he could enter his room, though, Pepper pulled him away and stared at him firmly.

Oh, great. More lecture time.

“There will be a flight to take you back to New York at eleven am tomorrow.” Her eyes held a fire that dared him to argue with her. “Someone will be here to take you to the airport—”

“It’s my plane, right? So I can be late if I want to.”

“—and might I just add,” she continued without breaking her speech, jaw working, “that you coming here without a _single_ bodyguard was reckless and so—so _you_.”

“I keep telling you we need to up the security,” he brushed off. He really just wanted to go to bed. “I couldn’t find a guy willing to tag me. How’s the Company doing, anyway?”

“I’d tell you, but I honestly don’t think you’d care about what happens to your company.”

“ _Your_ company,” Tony amended. Pepper’s eyes flashed in irritation.

“Well, Stark Industries has seen better days, _Mr. Stark_.”

Tony flinched at the acid in her tone.

“I’m trying to run the company—"

“And you’re doing a marvelous job, I’m sure.”

“—but from selling the Tower, and with the Expo being cancelled next year—”

“You cancelled it?” Tony asked. “You weren’t supposed to do that.”

Pepper looked ready to smash something against Tony’s head. “The Expo was _your_ idea, Tony. I can’t run everything in this Company—”

“Isn’t that what CEOs do?”

“Could you stop interrupting me for five seconds?!” she practically shouted. “I’m trying to run it, okay? Your just…gone.”

And Tony felt his careless façade crumble to dust as Pepper’s shoulders drooped slightly in quiet defeat. He could see the worn-out lines in her eyes, and the stray hairs slipping from her ponytail, things he never would have noticed fifteen years ago, when he’d hired her to become his personal assistant. He felt urged to reach over and tuck those hairs behind her ears, to pull her into his arms and apologize for doing this to her.

But he couldn’t.

It felt like six years ago again, when his body had been slowly dying from palladium poisoning. He had pushed her away then and was pushing her away now. It was something he had found out about himself over the years. When he was hurt, the first thing he did was deflect everyone’s concerns and distance himself. He didn’t know how to act otherwise. He couldn’t, he _wouldn’t_ , let anyone near his problems. They were his, and they did more damage to others in the long-run.

“Well,” he said, voice softening just a tad. “I’m here now. Need anything from yours truly?”

Pepper studied him silently and Tony wanted to run into his room and lock the door behind him. Pepper knew him better than anyone else, she could see right through his casualness, she could see the darkness inside of him. The fear. The loathing. After an excruciatingly long moment, she finally sighed and shook her head.

“No, that will be all, Mr. Stark.”

“Now, that isn’t fair, Miss Potts. That’s my line.”

And Tony felt his heart leap as Pepper’s eyes turned a touch warmer at the tease, but it immediately filled himself with dread at the same time. He wasn’t supposed to cajole her into feeling for him again. He’d spent the last five months distancing himself from her attempts to help, and now he was selfishly sweet-talking her back into his life.

No. Not Pepper. She was too perfect for him.

Gripping his keycard, he swiped his door and swung it open invitingly. “Do you need a place to stay for the night?”

Tony knew it was the exact wrong thing to say to her, and that’s why he’d said it. He watched as the suggestion caused the warmth leave Pepper’s eyes and she glared at him coldly.

Gosh, he really wanted her to slap him. It looked like she was going to, but at the last moment, she just slumped and shook her head knowingly. How did this woman read him so well? Was he completely unable to make her rise to his bait and finally hate him for good? It made pushing her away so much more difficult.

Pepper seemed to come to a decision and straightened back into a professional manner, once again the renowned CEO the world knew her to be. She gave him a cool smile, eyes calculating in a way that made his heart flip. She was taunting him right back.

She didn’t even answer Tony’s question, they both knew his offer was an obvious ‘no’, but she still smirked slightly at his poor attempts to get her to hate him. Tony annoyed her to no end, but she would never hate him. She might even still love him, though why would be anyone’s guess.

“I’ll work to get the Expo up and running again,” she said. Tony was about to express his gratitude, but she held up a hand. “ _If_ you promise to stop drinking.”

Oh. They were playing that game.

Tony gave a pouty frown. “That’s very tricky of you, Miss Potts.”

“Yes or no?” she asked, glancing at her watch. “Because I need to get to work if we’re going to do it.”

A busy Pepper was exactly what Tony wanted. She’d have no time for him if she started preparing for the Expo, so the answer was obvious.

“Fine,” he said. “I promise.”

Pepper looked momentarily surprised by his willingness, then nodded her head. “Good, because I’ve already thrown out all the liquor at the Compound.”

Tony choked. “What? Did Rhodey approve of this?”

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “He and Bruce helped me.”

Obviously. Between the three of them, he hardly stood a chance against their conspiracies to get him out of his shell.

“Traitors,” he muttered. “The whole lot of you.”

“We’re doing it because we care. Tony,” she said quietly, a look of regret lingering on her features.

“Also,” she added, “because you’re acting like an immature 4-year-old with a drinking problem.”

Tony shrugged. She wasn’t wrong. He turned and stepped into his room, knowing Pepper wouldn’t follow him in. He was ready to be done with this conversation and collapse onto the bed that was calling to him across the room. He also needed to think up a plan of what to do with the rest of his days now that he was tapering his alcohol intake. He couldn’t help one last attempt at a jibe to push his ex-girlfriend away from his life, though.

“So I guess I can count on you to peel me off of all bar floors in the foreseeable future?”

Pepper fixed him with a fierce glare, not even hesitating. “Always.”

He considered her answer for a moment, and finally admitted defeat. If Pepper wanted to help, then nothing could stop her. Not even him, apparently. Maybe in the long-run this was a good thing. He had hit rock bottom after Siberia and had stayed there for months. The drinking and gambling and running away had been his distractions from his grief, but nothing could take away the pain fully. No amount of drinking and avoiding his own home had been able to distract him from the anger and pain he tried to ignore.

He nodded quietly to Pepper.

“Then I bid you adieu, and good night, Miss Potts.”

“Good night, Tony.” She somehow made it sound more like a reprimand than a farewell.

The door closed and Tony was finally able to collapse on his bed, not bothering to change out of his suit while in his exhausted state. The fatigue that overcame him was welcomed but he couldn’t allow himself to doze off as he thought about returning home tomorrow. He really didn’t want to be at the Compound. He knew what awaited him if he went back to that place. Rhodey and Bruce would keep a careful eye on him, the Board would pressure him into making a public face for the UN, and through it all, he’d wander around the empty Avengers facility and try not to think of everything he’d lost. Without alcohol to numb his thoughts it would be difficult.

He couldn’t blame Pepper for trying. They were _all_ trying so hard to get him back on his feet, but their attempts just made him feel more distant. He wasn’t ready to let them in again, he might not ever be. The fear of getting hurt again was strong, but the fear of hurting them in some way was even stronger. Either way he couldn’t risk it.

He would go back to the Compound tomorrow like Pepper ‘asked’, but he knew he’d find a way to leave the facility again. He had to. There were too many memories there. Too many painful reminders, and he was done with pain. He was done with everything.

He closed his eyes and was once again plagued with nightmares that night.

 

* * *

 

Agent Maria Hill entered a coffee shop three blocks away from the Casino that same night. Her regular SHIELD uniform was replaced with casual civilian clothes, and her dark hair was thrown in a lose ponytail. To anyone else, she was just another face in the crowd. No one would suspect her as a trained operative making her way to a rendezvous point. She did a quick once over of the scrappy shop, ensuring that no other customers were around—who would be at this ungodly hour?—and casually nodded to the owner before heading towards a booth in the corner of the shop. She stopped at the end of the table, gazing at the lone occupant sitting in one of the seats.

The man in question wasn’t nearly discreet as Maria. In contrast to her inconspicuous clothes, he wore a dark, leather overcoat that looked more mysterious than comfortable. The man’s harsh expression only contributed to his shadowy impression. The most alarming feature was the black eyepatch covering his left eye. Though he posed an intimidating air, Maria merely returned his stare when he focused his threatening gaze on her over his cup of coffee.

“So?” he asked.

She nodded, sliding into a seat across from Fury as she spoke. “You were right. Stark was there. Played some wagers and got a couple drinks deep. He challenged the man with the largest wallet in the house and tried to egg on a fight.”

Fury hardly looked surprised by the news as he set down his cup. “You controlled the situation?”

Maria nodded. “Agent Luis intervened before either could get in a punch. He passed off easily as a waiter and confused him with a small tap of a stun gun. Stark went to the bar after that.”

“And the press?”

“I called in a few agents to keep them at bay. Any damage the media causes will be handled by Klein.” Maria folded her hands and leaned back. It might have looked relaxed if not for her rigid at-attention posture.

“On record,” she said, “Tony Stark wasn’t in Vegas tonight.”

Fury shook his head and sighed. “Never let it be said that Stark doesn’t know how to annoy the crap out of me. He’s becoming a real problem.”

“Yes, sir,” Hill concurred, but her eyes flickered doubtfully. Nick noticed her hesitance and raised an eyebrow.

“You have something to say, Deputy?” The tone was low and threatening, but Maria knew Fury well enough to know that he wanted her to voice the thought nagging on her mind lately, so she continued confidently.

“I’m just not sure why he’s become _our_ problem, sir,” she relented. Fury remained silent so she continued to explain. “We’ve spent a lot of resources and agents trying to keep an eye on him for the past three months. We’ve kept the media and press at bay, and most of that’s thanks to agents censoring a lot of it online. We keep working to turn the UN’s head somewhere other than Stark, but honestly, I can’t see any of it paying off. He’s still starting fires everywhere he goes. I don’t think he has it in him anymore.”

Fury chuckled. “You say that as if Iron Man and Tony Stark are two separate people.”

Hill pursed her lips. “He’s given up, Nick. We can’t keep covering for him, even if he isn’t aware of it. Something tells me if he knew we were tagging him, he wouldn’t exactly thank us for it. He doesn’t need us.”

“No,” he agreed. “Something far worse, I’m afraid. We need _him_.”

Hill frowned at the prospect. It unsettled her that the retired Director would confess that he needed anyone, let alone Tony Stark. “I don’t understand, sir.”

Fury sighed and leaned over the table, elbows resting on the surface. “When the Avengers broke up, I wasn’t expecting for Captain and the others to be completely wiped of the face of the earth. We haven’t had a single contact with the Rogues for months, and it’s beginning to worry me. Rogers took the reins, and we have no control. We’re sitting ducks, waiting for them to come to us.”

“They’ve left before,” Maria pointed out. “And they’ve come back every time we’ve needed them.”

“Yes, but they were a _team_ before,” Nick replied. “They were structured, they were friends…and they were on the right side of the law. We can’t just expect that come the next invasion, they’ll all haphazardly glue themselves back together and work as a team again. That’s a risk we cannot afford to take. We need the Avengers. Desperately. Who knows what kind of attention Earth will attract when Thor and his people come? There’s a lot that could go wrong, and we don’t have anything to retaliate if we’re attacked like we were in New York. The universe gets larger every day, Hill, and Earth…Earth is struggling to catch up.”

Maria couldn’t help but agree. Fury always saw threats long before they happened. That was why they were so quick to respond to the attack on New York and assemble the team. She couldn’t help but trust that he was right about this as well.

“So…what does this have to do with us needing Stark?”

“I think Stark might be our only hope to get Steve and the others back.”

Hill scoffed. “You’re kidding.”

Fury stared at her unblinkingly and Maria cursed under her breath.

“You’re not kidding.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “If you really think that Stark’s our only hope, then we’re toast.”

“I know he has an idea of where they are,” he reasoned, “or at least has a way to contact them.”

“Then what’s stopping him? The UN? The Accords?”

“His own pride, that’s what,” Nick said in frustration. “He’d probably kill himself before he’d go begging to Rogers.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“I uncovered a few things in Siberia that…enlightened me,” Nick said, but wasn’t willing to relent anymore. “Let’s just say that Cap and Tony aren’t going to be on speaking terms for a while.”

“Yet you expect them to be able to get over the Accords incident and become a team again?” Hill asked incredulously. “How? How are we going to convince Stark to do it? We all know he never does anything unless he wants to, and we’ve long since lost any leverage we might have been able to use against him. So unless there’s some miracle you have stashed in your pocket, I don’t see us winning this one. The Avengers are done.”

Maria felt slightly guilty for voicing this in front of the former SHIELD director. She knew how much the Avengers Initiative had meant to Nick, had meant for the world. It must be hard to see the protection you’d spent years building to crumble like dust before your eyes, but as Hill regarded her former Boss, she saw no remorse in his eyes, just a quiet, steady confidence.

“You obviously don’t know me that well, Agent Hill.” He sounded almost amused. “I _always_ have leverage.”

Maria cocked her head. “What are you planning?”

He shrugged, resigned. “Something that will probably come back to bite me.”

“Stark’s not going to like it.” She phrased it as a statement, but still gave him a questioning look.

Nick chuckled. “No, but he won’t have much of a choice.”

“So what’s our leverage?”

Fury sighed. “I’m not going to lie, it’s a huge gamble. This is more of an incentive to get Stark back to work and drop the playboy persona. I just hope it’ll be enough to motivate him into getting Iron Man back into the game.”

Maria eyed Nick suspiciously but didn’t comment. All of Fury’s ‘motivations’ tended to be drastic, but in the end, it usually got the Avengers where the world needed them. She just hoped this wouldn’t blow up in their faces.

“We need to tail Stark a little longer,” he continued. “I’d rather wait until he’s back at the Compound—"

“No need to wait,” Hill interrupted. “Stark will be in Upstate New York by tomorrow.”

Now it was Nick’s turn to look disbelieving. “So soon? I thought there’d be at least another month’s worth of frog jumping around the country before he’d calm down.”

“Miss Potts found him at the Casino tonight,” Hill explained. “She’s putting him on a plane back to the Compound in the morning.”

“Well, we’d better move quick, then. I can’t imagine him staying put for long.”

Hill nodded and internally buckled down for what felt like the calm before a storm.

“We can start by contacting SHIELD,” he said. “Call in a favor and have them pull out the files on Mary Fitzpatrick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh. Those sneaky agents.  
> And yah. Pepper Potts is awesome, and Tony’s annoying me, so I’m done writing about drunk and playboy Tony.  
> I PROMISE there is rhyme and reason to my switch-er-oo throughout the book (yah, I’m just gonna call it a book because reasons). If you haven’t noticed yet, it goes back and forth between Tony and Peter’s POV until soon (very soon) they merge. So just follow along and give this work the benefit of the doubt….I’M JUST GETTING STARTED!  
> \--  
> Next up on this-is-me-using-my-advertisement-voice, Peter Parker may not be a superhero (yet) but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a hero complex that gets him into trouble every now and then (always). Though Tony won’t take any risks, Peter will, but how big is he really going to gamble when he feels the need to go against his foster parents’ demands and put everything on the line? Get ready for some Peter Whump!!!  
> (yah, I’ve decided I like giving pre-chapter incentives, it keeps me on track, so yay!)  
> \--  
> PLEASE comment and let me know what you think so far. Is it too wordy? Too chit-chatty? Too...? I will literally take any advice and either use it or not, so just don’t be afraid to give it!  
> And if you see anything off about the work, or have any questions I’d love to hear that too.


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